


A Life Too Good to Last

by baristababey



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humanstuck, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Sadstuck, Self-Hatred, davekat - Freeform, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baristababey/pseuds/baristababey
Summary: Dave dealt with a tough childhood, and now struggles to come to terms with his sexuality.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider & Dave Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	A Life Too Good to Last

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blackout- Davekat Lyricstuck](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/622480) by @Hipdadz on ig or tumblr. 



> I loved the emotion, and heartache of the og video. I got permission from the artist to reference it, and I would suggest watching it at least once to understand the storyline of this fic. Of course, there will be added scenes, and dialog. I couldn't help but add on to the plot lol. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> This first chapter is Dave's backstory, and then we are brought to present times. :)

Years of abuse numbed the ache for emotional connection.

Growing up, Dave didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to feel hollowed out at the sound of his older brother calling his name. Memories of walking through that dim apartment made his skin crawl. Doors that never locked and empty stares haunted his dreams. The simple image of the pointy shades on the bedside drawer. Bro was always planning  _ something. _ There were the puppets, the posters, the music from bands no one's heard of--

_ "Dave, c'mere." _

The webcams, and cold sheets.

_ "Dave." _

Heavy, black curtains that blocked out the Texas sun.

...

Dave slowly pushes past the bedroom door to the sight of his Bro sitting at the desk, expressionless. The only light coming from the large monitor flashing behind him.

_ “C’mon, lil man, I missed you.” _

Each step into the room becomes heavier, and it gets harder to see. His feet dissolve below him and thick mud pulls at his ankles. It almost feels like trying to walk through murky water.

He’s breathless by the time he reaches the edge of the bed. He uses his hand to guide him closer to where Bro sits.

The music gets louder, and the walls of the room grow taller with every shaky breath he pushes out. He looks down at his hands, pale, and trembling.

He catches the sight of his Bro removing his shades. He sets them down in front of his keyboard and begins to fumble with the edge of his shirt. Dave is unable to speak. His heart is pounding. His mouth is dry.

Colors continued to flash behind the silhouette of his brother. The music is suffocating. Dave’s mind was spinning and his body weighed on him as if he wore a chest plate made of concrete. He was paralyzed.

Cold hands began to trace the back of his exposed shoulders. He feels Bro’s lips almost burning into the side of his neck. He tries to cry out in an attempt to defend himself, but nothing escapes him.

Tears streamed down his face, still silent.

His arms were too heavy.

His stomach drops as he inhales sharply through his nose.

_The_ _familiar scent of the room--_

His heartbeat hammered between his ears, and against the inside of his chest. His eyes shot open and he sits up on the bed, gasping for air. A headache abruptly announces its presence as he pushes his hair back with cold, clammy hands.

"God,  _ fuck." _

_.. _

Looking back, it was sickening, the way he’d ever suggested love for him.

Never having known what it was like to have a parent, Dave had no real expectations of what proper care should be. Of course, there were basics like shelter and clothing, but when it came to things like emotional support,  _ that was out the fuckin window. _ Little Dave relied on things like movies to teach him about home life. He’d learned that families often sat together for meals, and even heard that a fridge was meant for  _ food,  _ rather than shitty swords. -Not that things ever ended up this way.

Bro was only twenty when he was given full custody of Dave. Their parents both died upon impact in a plane accident, leaving infant Dave and a considerably immature Bro Strider as a family of two. This was never spoken of in the household, and Dave never thought about it. These were people he’d never met. Besides, he had his cool older brother to watch over him, and he could eat whatever he wanted for dinner most of the time. (If he could  _ find _ something.)

The bad days were  _ bad.  _ But the good days were heaven on Earth.

There was false hope all around him as a child. The golden moments of shared laughter faded the scars, just for a moment. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their weird sense of humor. Scrolling through Bro’s borderline pornographic webcomics was the best thing ever to young Dave. They could talk and laugh like real bros. Talk about guy stuff. He held onto these moments for as long as he could, despite knowing that it would only be a day or two until the apologies were gone with the wind. 

It was always something terrible, and then something to make it all better. Behaviors plotted out in a way that ensured little Dave would never doubt his beloved Bro. After all, someone who  _ didn’t care  _ wouldn’t shower him in gifts, right?

Things like computer games and records seemed to always end up on Dave’s desk in the days following a strife. Once, there was even a polaroid camera. But never a note, or proper acknowledgment. Dave knew that this was his Bro’s way of showing any type of remorse, and he appreciated that.

He truly looked forward to the days when his brother would invite him into his room to surf the web. He liked looking over the eye-straining color scheme of the webcomics, and especially liked going over whatever Bro’s latest project was. It was a noticeable pattern, and Dave knew this. His fantasy of being truly loved always betrayed him. Dave was nothing more than a child, asking to be cared for.  _ And he needed someone, anyone, who was willing to. _

More than anything, he needed the comfort of knowing that at least  _ one person  _ would miss him if he disappeared.

..

It was out of character for the man to offer affection of any sort, and he usually kept Dave at a negligent distance. Dave was never resentful towards Bro, no matter what happened. No one could teach him about the “real world” like Bro did, and he wouldn't want it any other way.

He knew what he was doing, and he knew it wasn’t right. Bro didn’t drink or do drugs, yet his mindset was so twisted that the damage in front of him was hardly noticeable. Cries and slashes were censored by the authentic disgust and disappointment that he felt for the kid. There was never a chance for things to get better. How in the hell should a child be able to block the blows of someone who was almost double his weight, and more than a foot taller?

A failed strife meant for more training. Other times, it meant betraying the trust of a touch-starved child.

Dave couldn’t fight back, but he’d found ways of protecting himself physically, in case of a sudden confrontation. For instance, he knew that crouching, and crossing his forearms across his forehead softened the blow of a katana struck with the full intention of its purpose. Horizontal scars draped the length of his arms like bracelets, reaching up to his elbows. Even today, every strike is there.

The flash of a sword, the smell of rubbing alcohol, and the tearing of cheap bandages is what reminded him of his Bro. Simply put, these were the things that his subconscious protected him from. Long nights were eventually repressed.

His childhood was filled with hungry nights and broken sobs, but he outgrew these, and learned to withstand the pains of hunger and unwanted touch.

-

Changing schools was never something that bothered Dave. It happened almost yearly, on account of Bro never being able to provide a steady income with his websites. Dave was a pretty social kid, and made friends easily, but it was never easy on him to start from scratch. Not to mention the many awkward approaches from teachers and counselors that would eventually catch on.

Dave never said a word. The bandages and bruises that poked out of his collar spoke for him. 

In elementary school, kids were not shy to point out how often Dave repeated clothes. He didn’t really have much of an option than to pick up where his brother had been slacking in the home. No biggie. He did laundry, packed his lunch, worked on his assignments, and kept it cool for the homies. -That is, until the two of them had to start looking for another place to stay.

Things started to settle down by the time Dave reached the end of eighth grade. One of Bro’s streams had done well enough to get him the equipment he needed for a podcast. Dave saw even weirder puppets and lewd magazines in their mailbox. It wasn’t his place to ask questions, but at least they were sure that they would be staying in Houston for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updated on Thursdays! My added scenes are not completed, feel free to give suggestions or feedback!


End file.
